


Holiday Indulgence

by Moonykins



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Belly Kink, M/M, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonykins/pseuds/Moonykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Thanksgiving and Tony can't help but indulge a little.  Or a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing this kind of kink for this fandom. I hope I did alright! If you're into belly kinks you're welcome to join a new community I created on livejournal: http://avengersbellies.livejournal.com/ We're hoping to start our first kink meme round soon!

He had been banned from the kitchen.  It wasn’t really something he could be angry about since the others had good reason for not allowing him to help cook Thanksgiving dinner.  Last year Tony had been left in charge of the stuffing and it hadn’t exactly ended well.  He caused fires almost every time he cooked so Steve had suggested that Tony keep them updated on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade from a safe seat in front of the TV.

“They’re bringing out Snoopy,” he reported, half asleep in his spot on the couch.  Even Thor had been granted passage into the kitchen.  How had that happened?  Tony was pretty sure that Thor hadn’t cooked a single thing since the day he had moved into the tower.

Everyone was surprised that Natasha could cook but what was even more shocking was the fact that Clint had proven to be a professional chef.  He insisted he picked things up while traveling with the circus but Tony wasn’t quite buying it.

Bruce and Steve got along well enough—the former because he insisted that cooking was a science (if it was then why couldn’t Tony master it?) and the latter because when you traveled the world punching Hitler in the jaw you learned more than a few good recipes.  Besides, Steve _liked_ to cook.  At first he had been timid and shy about it but that all changed a few months into his relationship with Tony.

Yup.  It was all Steve’s fault.  All of the weight Tony had gained over the past year had been due to Steve’s insistence that the billionaire eat three square meals a day.  He even went so far as to deliver the meals to Tony’s workshop when the genius refused to show his face to the world.  And Tony ate.  He always ate what Steve served him.  Steve got this look in his eyes—this unique smile on his lips—whenever Tony ate his cooking.  It was like he was a proud papa.  So Tony ate.  And ate.  And ate.

He should have put a stop to it when Steve had started bringing him baked goods.  Cookies, pies, cakes, brownies, cupcakes, pastries and almost every other delicious item that made Tony’s mouth water and his taste buds tingle—they all appeared in front of him at one time or another.  Steve was a stress baker, something that came as a surprise to them all.  When the team got back from a particularly stressful mission Steve flew right off to the kitchen and started a new recipe.  Tony was always the guinea pig—and yeah, the pig part was kind of beginning to show.

He definitely had a bit of a belly going on.  He had gone up a few pants sizes, but he was able to cover it up by buying his own clothes instead of asking Pepper to do it like he normally did.  He had to admit, he was feeling a bit more insecure about his image as of late.  Love handles were not sexy and there was no way that Steve wasn’t going to notice them if Tony took off his shirt while they had sex.  So he didn’t.  He kept his shirt on, the lights turned way down low, and he got by.

Until today.  The holiday season had officially begun and that meant lots and lots of food.  Tony wasn’t sure he would be able to resist it.  His metabolism wasn’t what it used to be and he wasn’t as young as the others or as strong willed.  Just the smells from the kitchen were enough to make him salivate and shift uncomfortably in his seat.  Luckily he had worn his loosest pair of slacks that day.

“That’s great, Tony.” He heard Steve say as he traveled from the kitchen to the dining room, carrying several serving trays of food.

Tony doubted he was even listening.  “Oh!  Oh no!  Oh god!  He ripped!  He…He’s falling!  Holy shit, he just fell on a bunch of kids from St. Jude’s!  Oh god!  It’s so terrible!”

“Thor, can you carry the turkey?”

Tony rolled his eyes and pouted, flipping off the television and getting up off the couch.  They were about ready to eat anyway.  The others were just bringing out the last dishes, Tony strolled into the dining room and sat down in his designated seat, looking over the table and grinning.  It was an amazing spread: turkey, cranberries, mashed potatoes, string beans, artichokes, mushrooms, stuffing, rolls, corn bread—Tony could go on but it would take him all afternoon.  Instead he began serving himself, not even bothering to wait for everyone to sit down.

Steve pulled up a chair beside him and frowned at him, clearly disapproving of his manners.  Tony really didn’t care too much.  He speared a piece of turkey drenched in gravy and took a bite.  It was absolutely perfect—not too tough, fell apart in his mouth, the gravy balancing out the taste of the turkey evenly.  “Who did the turkey?”

“Clint,” Natasha said from across the table.  Clint gave a proud smile and passed a roll to his fellow assassin.  “Can’t you at least wait for the rest of us to sit down before you go stuffing your face?”

Tony wrinkled his nose at her, noting that the others had already taken their seats around him.  It wasn’t like they were going to join hands a pray or anything.  None of them were particularly religious—Thor was from a different realm entirely and they weren’t really sure what his rituals were like (they had to explain the whole idea of Thanksgiving to him but he had jumped right on the idea).  Tony knew that Steve would have loved for them to go around the table and say what they were thankful for, but he didn’t really have the patience or the sentiment for that.

“It’s alright, Tasha.” Steve reassured, reaching over and placing a hand on Tony’s knee and earning the billionaire’s attention.  That smile was there again, the one that Tony couldn’t quite place.  “Let’s dig in, everyone.”

“Let us feast!” Thor called out, ripping a turkey leg for himself and happily dropping it onto his plate (none too gently).  That, at least, had broken the eye contact between Tony and Steve and gave Tony the chance to return to his food.

They chatted absentmindedly to each other while they ate, the atmosphere feeling a lot more like one that would surround a family rather than a group of broken souls.  Thor laughed and shared stories of the great feasts that were held in Asgard, everyone complimented each other on the dishes they had made (Tony reminded them all that it was his money that had been used to buy the food in the first place and they had given him the appropriate praise), and bellies were quickly filled.  Tony was pretty sure he had overdone it.  He had taken seconds of nearly everything and thirds of the things he had really enjoyed.  His stomach was pressing painfully against the waistband of his pants, making it feel like he could barely breathe.  He wanted so badly to reach down and undo the button before it burst, but Steve was right there beside him.  Could he get away with it?  He had worn a sweater that day since it was cold and it was doing a good job of covering his stomach which was working steadily to stretch out the material.  He puffed out a breath and decided to go for it.

Just as his fingers made contact with the button Steve rose to his feet, saying something about clearing the table to make room for dessert.  Thor and quick to jump up and help, the others following soon after.  Tony seized his chance and popped the button open, feeling a huge sense of relief when his stomach was able to expand just that little bit more.  The zipper slid down of its own accord and Tony slouched in his seat.  He was absolutely stuffed, but he knew that there was pie for dessert and he couldn’t miss that.  God, he was such a pig.  Here he was, stuffed to the point of bursting, belly hanging out of his pants, and he still wanted more.

That was when a plan formed in his mind.  He could sneak away after dessert and just crash in his room.  Lying was second nature to a Stark and he could easily tell the others that he had some work to do—they wouldn’t disturb him.  He could stretch out in bed and just rub his belly until the ache subsided and then he would show his face again.

There.  Problem solved.  He could diet between then and Christmas and lose some weight, do it all again until New Years.  His resolution would be to get back to the weight he was at when he had first met Steve.  He would hit the gym every day, practice boxing with Natasha.  He would reach his goal in no time.

Three slices of pie later and Tony’s mind set changed.  It would take a long time to lose this.  It would be hard to break himself of this eating habit.  How had he eaten so much?  He was pretty sure his body hadn’t been designed to hold that much food.  How did he even have that much room in his stomach?  Then again, his stomach was pretty round at the moment.

“That was a glorious feast, friends.” Thor complimented, grinning around the table.  “Shall we retire to the room of living to play some video games?”

Clint seemed to perk up at that, shooting a competitive glare Thor’s way.  “You bet, big guy.  I’m so kicking your ass tonight!”

“What about cleaning the table?” Bruce asked, looking around at the dishes piled up around them.  “I suppose I can do it…”

Natasha stood up and began collecting the plates.  Did Tony mention that she looked stunning in the black dress she was wearing?  Because she did.  “I’ve got your back.  The children can go and play.”

“Yay!” Clint chirped, flying out of his seat and pecking Natasha on the cheek.  “Gee, thanks mom!”

“You’re sick.”

“You love it!” Clint called as he and Thor practically raced to the living room.  The sounds of the game station being turned on could be heard in the background.

“I really don’t.” Natasha growled and followed Bruce into the kitchen.                           

Tony stared over at Steve, wondering when he would get his chance to slip away.  “Don’t you wanna help too?  You’re always acting like Cinderella around here and doing everyone’s chores.”

Steve shot him a grin and leaned over to give him a soft kiss on the lips.  “I thought I was Sleeping Beauty.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh at that, which probably wasn’t his smartest move since it sent a jolt of pain up his belly.  “Yeah, yeah.  Look, I’m just gonna go down to my workshop and do the things I was supposed to be doing today since, ya know, you told me I couldn’t do them.”

Steve frowned, those beautiful pink lips thinning out and pulling down, the bottom one jutting out just so.  “You promised you’d spend holidays with everyone.  It’s rude of you to be cooped up in your workshop all the time.  We wanna see you every once in a while, Tony.  Especially me.”

Great.  Steve was playing the guilt card and it was working perfectly.  How the heck was he supposed to escape now?

“I—“ A hiccup escaped his lips, cutting off Tony’s argument.  His whole stomach had jumped with the force of it and God, had it hurt.  He squeezed his eyes shut for just the briefest of seconds, but that was all Steve needed in order to become concerned.

“Tony?” A big, warm hand was placed on his stomach, making both of them freeze.  A look of realization passed over Steve’s face and Tony could practically feel his heart stop beating.  He could _feel_ it.  Steve could _feel_ how full he was.  There’s no way he couldn’t.  But maybe it wasn’t too late.  With the way his stomach was inflated it meant it was more difficult for Steve to feel the extra weight distributed over Tony’s frame.  Maybe he wouldn’t notice.  Tony could pass it off as a one-time pigout.  A holiday indulgence.

He was getting ready to snap at Steve, tell him to keep his massive hands to himself, when Steve practically dragged him to his feet, whispering “Come on” in an urgent voice before he began guiding him through the halls.  Tony nearly tripped over his own feet as they made for the elevator, riding it up in silence until they reached the floor they shared with one another.  Steve tugged him along, bringing them to the bedroom and closing the door behind them.  Then, as gently as he could, he pushed Tony down onto the bed.

Tony, as smart as he was, couldn’t possibly begin to imagine what had come over him.  In fact, he couldn’t even begin to complain about being man-handled since Steve’s hands had found their way back to his stomach and his lips had somehow wound up pressed against Tony’s and—oh, that was nice.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were feeling full?” Steve asked, crawling onto the bed above Tony, framing the billionaire with his body.  “You could have told me that you needed to lie down.”

“I-I—“

“You’re embarrassed.” Steve observed, dropping his eyes and gazing down at Tony’s sweatshirt.  He began hiking it up, warm fingers skirting over Tony’s stretched skin.  Tony gasped, another hiccup escaping his lips from the touch.  He wanted to suck it in, to hide his belly from view, but it was too late.  Steve got the sweatshirt up over Tony’s head and tossed it aside, eyes raking over his lover’s form.  “Tony, I’m not an idiot.”

“What?  I never said—“

“You tried hiding it from me.  Hiding _this._ ” Steve’s arms framed Tony’s stomach, dropping his lips to it and pressing gentle kisses into the fiery skin.  “You think I didn’t notice that you gained weight?”

Tony’s eyes were blown wide and he stared at Steve in horror, the color draining from his face.  “Y-You knew?”

Steve only nodded, no indication of whether this was a good kind of knowing or the bad kind.

“And you—“

“I don’t care.” Steve answered, fingers brushing over Tony’s half protruding belly button.  Tony felt a strange heat curl in his stomach.  He never got turned on when Steve touched his stomach before.

“Okay, you’re interrupting me a lot tonight.” He said coolly, trying to retain a bit of his natural attitude.

“I’ll interrupt you a whole lot more if you don’t shut up and listen.”

Tony’s mouth snapped closed at that.  Okay, maybe he had a bit of a kink for Steve’s commanding voice, but he loved to go against it just as much as he loved to obey it.  He raised his eyebrows, indicating that Steve could continue.

“I knew,” Steve started slowly, fingers drawing circles against the taut skin of Tony’s stomach.  “How could I not?  Tony, we make love nearly every night.  I can feel it on you.  I may not know how much, but I know you’ve gained some weight.  It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” Tony snapped, pushing Steve’s hands away and trying to right himself.  He was pinned under his own weight so he didn’t manage to make it far.  “I had to get rid of my old pants, Steve.  My _ass_ is bigger, Steve.  The suit feels _smaller_ , Steve!  How is that not a big deal?”

Steve simply smiled.  Tony had no idea what he was about to say, but even before he said it he felt his anger and embarrassment melt away.  “Because it isn’t.”

It was that simple.  Steve didn’t need to say any more.  Tony understood what he meant without him even breathing a word.  Steve would love him no matter what he looked like—no matter how much weight he put on, no matter how grey his hair got, no matter how many wrinkles he developed.  Steve would always love him.  It was something Tony truly envied about Steve; his ability to see good in nearly everything he looked at.  To see beauty.  Perhaps it came from being an artist, Tony could never be sure, and at that moment it didn’t really matter.  All that mattered was that Tony knew that Steve would never leave him.  He framed Steve’s face in his hands, pulling him forward and crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss.

“Besides,” Steve spoke when they finally broke apart.  “I kind of like it.”

“You…like it?”

Helping himself, Steve reached out and pinched Tony’s side, squeezing a tiny roll of fat between his fingers.  Tony yelped and tried to pull away, but Steve held him closer, lips hovering over his ear.  “You said that I should figure out my kinks, right?  Well, I think this is one of them.”

Tony’s eyes were wide again, but Steve couldn’t see that.  He needed just a few seconds before he was able to get a grip on himself again, and then he was bucking his belly up against Steve’s perfectly sculpted abs, earning a surprised gasp from the super soldier.  “Is that why you’ve been using me as your guinea pig?  Trying to fatten me up for your own pleasure?  Steven Grant Rogers, you scoundrel.”

Now Steve was the one who was flustered.  Tony could almost feel the full body blush that came over the man trapped in his arms.  “T-Tony—I-I—“

“Shhh.” Tony hushed, pulling back and running a hand through Steve’s hair.  He gave him a kiss for good measure, pleased that he hadn’t lost his ability to render Captain America speechless.  “It’s okay.”

“It is?” Steve asked, still sounding uncertain.

Tony just grinned.  “Yeah.  I kinda like it.”

 

**FIN**


End file.
